The Silver Darlings by Neil M. Gunn

out of the boat’s earnings. All of us, therefore, must have a share in the boat equal to that amount.”
    “Very good. But what if anyone wants to leave—or has to leave—the boat?” asked Mr. Hendry, looking closely at Roddie.
    “In that case,” said Roddie, “I’ll pay him out his share, and that’s the end of it.”
    Hendry nodded slowly. “You have a clear head, Roddie—and a generous one. You might have kept an extra share for yourself. I hope”—and he looked at the three others—“that you appreciate this.”
    “We do that,” said Rob. “But it’s the way he would have it himself.” His solemnity sounded comical, and they all smiled.
    “Well, Roddie, as I say, it seems clear and generous.”
    “You were more than generous to me.”
    Mr. Hendry closed his mouth, then nodded once or twice. “All right,” he said. But the quiet way in which Roddie led his men brought enthusiasm upon him, and in a moment the latest news of the rise of the fisheries was flowing in a torrent. “The Moray Firth is burning, from Fraserburgh, along the whole south coast, Macduff, Banff, Buckie, Lossiemouth, Brochead and a score of villages besides . We’ve got to go ahead. No half measures now. The money will be flowing like the river. As one man said in Wick: the creels of silver herring will turn into creels ofsilver crowns. And by God, boys, Dunster has to go into the lead. You’ll have to fish up. Boats from the south side will be here. You’ll have to beat them; you’ll have to show the Wickers and Buckers a thing or two. You’re the leaders now and I’m relying on you.”
    “We’ll do our best,” said Roddie.
    “I know,” answered Hendry, but as if that weren’t the point, as if the affair were bigger than the mere doing of one’s best. They felt this undertow of excitement, this bigness , this portentous looming of tremendous things.
    Mr. Hendry let them out by the back door of the inn, for in their present mood they wanted to be by themselves to go over again and again every aspect of their position. Although they took a dram now and then they were not used to more than the customary small glass, and Hendry’s generous portion had gone a little to their heads.
    They withdrew into the shadow of a wood. Rob broke the silence by remarking in his dry, solemn way, “He seems anxious for us to do well.” In their excitement they began to laugh softly.
    Meantime, Mr. Hendry had returned to the bar. He stood still and cast his eyes over the silent, watching faces. “You, James, and you, Alastair, and you, William—will you come in?” He lifted the flap and the three skippers filed through without a word.
    *
    Never had Dunster known such talk, such expectation, such secret groupings and meetings. Where husbands or sons were shy or backward their womenfolk encouraged them. Women who knew how to spin hemp taught others. In the meeting-or ceilidh-houses at night nothing was talked about but the coming fishing. “Creels of silver herring will turn into creels of silver crowns” became the joke that never lost its gleam. There were two creel-makers in Dunster, and they worked all day and far into the night.
    Yet this busy expectation was quite consumed in thefires of excitement that spread throughout Dunster when unknown curers, and boats, and fishermen, with Scots tongues that few could understand, turned the foreshore into Babel in the first week of July.
    Along the cliff-heads, from every cottage door within sight, eyes watched the fleet of boats as in the late afternoon they put out to sea. Hope and rivalry ran high.
    But the first few days were almost blank, such herring as were caught being small or in poor condition. In the early morning the crews of women and girls gathered for the gutting, waited until the boats came in, and slowly drifted home. Despondency touched the quickened spirit of Dunster. Hendry could not sit still. The fishing would last only about seven weeks, and already one week was